


After the Storm

by viiperfang



Category: Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Blood, Darnold's last name is Pepper bc fuck you, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, both are rather non-graphic, gordon freeman has a Bad Time, injuries, no beta we die like men, post ResCas, that one is hair pulling nothing graphic at all but better safe than sorry, the last two ships are mostly implied, unhealthy coping methods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26812396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiperfang/pseuds/viiperfang
Summary: It wasn't fair.After the ResCas, and everything that happened, it seemed everyone was okay and moving on. Benrey came back and was as insufferable as ever; showed up one day at Gordon's door and never left. Bubby and Dr. Coomer got officially married, and made a living fixing broken machinery and shit. Darnold and Tommy moved in together in a large ranch house and worked together on projects and experiments and what have you.Hell.Benreyhad gotten a fucking job, plus made extra money streaming. Gordon was a little fucking annoyed that they're the one living out his dream but whatever. It wasfine.When faced with a Science Team who seemingly aren't affected by the events of the Resonance Cascade and everything that happened after, Gordon takes to bottling up his emotions and fears, pretending he's okay. The charade can only last for so long until it breaks, however.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life), Tommy Coolatta/Darnold
Comments: 28
Kudos: 254





	After the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> 10/5: This has now been edited! I edited spelling, grammar, and tense errors, and fixed the formatting!
> 
> Okay I want to first warn you that this is unedited, unbetad, and all but like, 300 words in the beginning was written in one sitting between the hours of 12 am and 6 am. This is a vent piece that grew quickly out of control, hence the heavy themes. As of writing this note it is currently 6:10 am and I am very tired. I will come back and edit this for clarity, formatting issues, and the like at a later time. For now, it is what it is.
> 
> Oh, and this has/is based on art I drew. [You can find it here!](https://g0rd0n-fr33m4n.tumblr.com/post/630998891347771392/i-i-swear-im-fine-dont-worry-about-it-vent)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!

It isn't fair. 

After the ResCas, and everything that happened, it seemed everyone was okay and moving on. Benrey came back and was as insufferable as ever; showed up one day at Gordon's door and never left. Bubby and Dr. Coomer got officially married, and made a living fixing broken machinery and shit. Darnold and Tommy moved in together in a large ranch house and worked together on projects and experiments and what have you.

Hell. _Benrey_ had gotten a fucking job, plus made extra money streaming. Gordon was a little fucking annoyed that they're the one living out his dream but whatever. It was _fine._

Yeah, Gordon got a decent chunk of hush money, enough to last him for a few years if he budgeted right (and sharing rent with someone _did_ help, unsurprising to nobody), but he could barely get out of bed some days, let alone apply for a job without panicking at just the prospect of it. 

It seemed none of them were even remotely bothered about what transpired, even to the point of giving him confused looks when he brought it up, like _he_ was the weird one for _daring_ to be traumatized by the ordeal. 

Everyone is fine after the ResCas. 

Everyone but Gordon. 

It isn't fucking _fair_. 

So, he does what any person who cares too much about what his peers think does: he shoves everything deep down, locks it away, and pretends he's just as okay as everyone else. Yep, he's working on getting a job. Nope, he _doesn't_ have nightmares, that's just silly. Of _course_ he can be in a dark room, why do you ask?

Ignores the glances Benrey throws his way because he knows they know he's lying. But they haven't snitched yet, so Gordon refuses to think about it. 

So what if he lies awake most nights, afraid to sleep, afraid of the shadows lurking around the halo of light from lamp he's taken to keeping on, afraid to leave the safety of his room and confront his (enemy? friend? crush?) roommate and their calculating eyes? So what if he cowers and hides at the sound of thunder, or Benrey dropping something, or his own thoughts? What if having to smile, laugh, pretend he's okay even if the only thing he wants to do is cry is getting harder every day?

If no one knows, Gordon can just shove those away into his ever growing pile of things he refuses to deal with. Behind the wall that's cracking more and more every false smile or fake laugh, crumbling more with each lie he says. He knows that it's all going to come crashing down soon, but with all things, he hopes that if he ignores it, pretends it okay, it really will be okay.

(Who is he kidding?)

It shouldn't come as a surprise, and yet it still does, that everything comes to a head when he and Benrey, along with the rest of the Science Team, are invited over to the Pepper-Coolatta household for lunch one day. It starts out fine, he converses and has small talk with everyone, laughs at Benrey's jokes and smiles at Dr. Coomer's recitings of the Wikipedia article about Bread, of all things—it's brought about because Tommy asks everyone what kind of bread they'd prefer for their sandwiches.

It's only after lunch that things start taking a turn for the worse. For such a big house there aren't quite enough seats for all of them so Gordon's leaning against the wall, having given up his seat for Tommy to take instead. 

He wants to go home.

He doesn't voice this. 

He doesn't want to be the first to leave, he thinks it's rude even if all he wants to do is lie down in bed for the next however long. Being social is wearing on him, he's quickly running out of energy and the drive to keep up pretenses. 

But Tommy says something with that little smile of his and Gordon replies without actually registering what was said, and he decides he can keep pretending for a little bit longer. If not for himself, for Tommy, whom he doesn't want to let down.

Benrey laughs at something and his attention is drawn to the noise, eyes flicking over to his roommate only for his blood to run cold. They and Bubby are leaned in towards each other, talking to each other about… something. Neither are being particularly quiet about it but it's just the sight of them bent close, like they're plotting. 

Like when they were planning the ambush back in Black Mesa. 

The sight is all too familiar and while the rational part of his brain knows that isn't what's going on, the louder part screams that he's in danger, that those two together are no good. It doesn't matter that they both apologized, or that he's forgiven them, his fear tears at his brain in a frenzy, leaving his thoughts a buzzing mess. 

His right arm hurts, his prosthetic fist clenched so hard his entire arm shakes under the strain. Gordon's other hand grabs his arm, fingers digging painfully into his skin through his long-sleeved shirt. 

Someone must say his name because suddenly he feels five sets of eyes on him. He blinks and stutters out a strangled, " _huh_?" before swallowing and tearing his eyes away from staring at Benrey and Bubby. 

"Are-are you okay, Mr. Freeman?" Tommy asks, probably for the second or third time. 

Gordon gives him a shaky smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, I'm, uh, I'm okay, Tommy," he assures his friend, refusing to focus on the doubt spreading across everyone's expressions.

Normally, when someone asks how you are, and you say you're fine, they drop it. But it's because Tommy repeats himself, that Gordon feels the walls he built to keep everything at bay splinter and break. "Are you sure, M-Gordon? Are you really okay?"

No. He really, _really_ isn't okay. But he keeps the smile on his face even as his chin wobbles, averts his eyes as tears build up, and tightens his grip on his arm. "I-I swear, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

He wants them to drop it, so he can go back to pretending to be okay, but it's _Bubby_ of all people, showing an uncharacteristic amount of concern, who speaks next. "Gordon, something's clearly bothering you. What's wrong?"

He opens his mouth to speak, but instead of words, a sob manages to weasel its way from his chest. He freezes. Everyone else freezes as well. A wave of fear crashes over him because _no no no_ he _can't_ lose the last scraps of composure he has here, he can't allow himself to show weakness in front of them, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he broke down in plain view of everyone. 

His eyes flicker to the back door. There's a strained moment of silence, and then a flurry of movement. Gordon bolts, and he hears everyone else stand behind him. He wrenches the door open and throws himself outside and onto the porch before leaping down the stairs. He's eternally glad Tommy didn't have a fenced yard; Gordon makes a sharp turn and scrambles towards the forest that borders the left side of the property.

"Gordon!" Someone—Benrey?—yells after him but he ignores them. 

His heart drums in his ears, drowning out the thundering noise of his footsteps and the ragged gasp of his breath. Even as the shadow of the trees envelops him he doesn't slow. Even though he can barely see through the tears that stream down his face, even as his chest burns with sobs he doesn't allow to surface, even as his legs scream, he keeps sprinting as fast as he can. 

He needs to get away. He needs to hide. He needs to–

His foot catches on a root and he isn't aware enough to stop himself from pitching forward. His face slams into the forest floor, knee wrenching painfully and flesh palm scraping against twigs and debris. Gordon chokes back a noise and rolls over onto his side, breathing heavily through his mouth. 

There's a crack in the left lens of his glasses, and he silently breathes a sigh of relief that the glass didn't shatter into his eye. He can feel blood dripping down his face from his nose which throbs in time with his heartbeat. His right knee is in agony, burning hot and radiating up his thigh and down his calf in pulses.

He doesn't care. 

He goes to struggle to his feet when he hears movement nearby and stills, hand pressed against his mouth to stifle his breathing. Benrey's shoes come into view around a tree and Gordon curls in on himself the best he can. Tears burn at his eyes and he chokes on his gasps, the world spinning as not enough oxygen makes it into his lungs. He's completely in the throws of a panic attack now, and yet he still tries to quell the sobs that try to break free. It only makes everything worse, as each breath becomes smaller and shallower until he's dizzy. 

Gordon hears Benrey say words to him but through his own bubble of panic he can't make out what they are. He shakes his head, though, and moans a weak little, "no." Benrey's voice becomes more insistent and Gordon shakes his head more vigorously in return, squeezing his eyes shut. His hands slide into his hair and he pulls painfully, feeling some strands snap under the tension. 

"Bro you, you gotta breathe, you're hurting yourself," Benrey's voice is right by his ear, and Gordon just whines and curls in tighter. Cool hands gently untangle his from his hair, fingers slotting through his own and squeezing. Gordon manages to squeeze a little back. "C'mon, can you breathe with me? In four second, hold eight, out seven."

Gordon nods and tries, he honestly does, but his thoughts spiral into ' _Benrey probably thinks you're pathetic right now_ ,' and ' _Everyone is probably back at the house making fun of you_ ,' and his breath catches. He chokes, coughing to desperately get air in his lungs but _can't_. There's a hand in his hair, grounding him with a gentle, "shhh, you hafta breath, come on," before Benrey begins counting out loud, punctuating each number with a light, soothing scratch of their nails against his scalp. "In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three…"

Gordon follows along, breaths shuddery, but slowly they even out into some semblance of normal, until he doesn't feel a second from passing out, until he can open his eyes and the word isn't whirling nauseatingly. He takes his hands back from Benrey's, and feels the hand on his head retreat in turn (and he doesn't think about the fact that there were three hands in total). He pushes himself up until he's sitting up, bad leg stretched out in front of him. 

Benrey hisses before cracking a small grin. "Gordos, uh, Clumsyman, got a little, a little banged up there, didn't'cha?"

Gordon gives a small laugh which dissolves into a sob as he looks up at Benrey. "Aw, come on now, what's with the waterworks, Freeman?"

"I-I," Gordon stutters, crossing his arms over his chest protectively and averting his eyes. "I… I'm sorry, I f-fucked things up, royally. A-and I-" His voice gives out as the dam finally breaks, unable to hold back the tidal wave of emotion any longer. Finally, he allows the sobs clogging his throat to fly free, and they burst forth like a flurry of spooked starlings that take to the air in a whirlwind of sound.

"Hey, hug for Freeman? Please? Free hugs from your best pal, Benrey?" Benrey's voice cuts through his crying. Gordon blinks past his tears and looks at Benrey, who has their arms open in an invitation. Gordon hesitates for a moment before falling forward and wrapping his arms around their chest, clinging to their shirt like a toddler and pressing his face into the fabric.

Benrey, seemingly, wasn't expecting him to take up the offer, because they stiffen, hands hovering over Gordon's back awkwardly before they return the embrace. Gordon doesn't realize how touch-starved he really is until he literally melts into their arms, shaking himself apart in the comfort and safety they brought. Their one hand rubs a soothing circle into his back while the other strokes his hair, and Gordon sniffs, trying to pick up the scattered pieces of himself. Okay sniffing like that fucking hurt, he's not doing that again.

"Would, uh," they smack their lips and Gordon starts to pull away, thinking he's overstayed his welcome in the hug department. He has an apology on his lips but Benrey's arms tighten around him and they quickly assure him. "Wh, no, you're okay, hug is epic, promise. I wanted to, uh, wanted to ask if you wanted, um, some calming blue Sweet Voice? Maybe?"

Gordon is so so so glad they learned to ask before using their Sweet Voice on him, after the last time they did it without asking and Gordon almost skinned them out of sheer rage. That had been way back when, not long after the ResCas and just after Benrey had moved in with him. So Gordon doesn't even think, just nods his head against their chest and allows them to pull him back by the arms. He closes his eyes as they sing a low note, and he feels the oddly cold Sweet Voice circle his head, the effects taking hold as soon as he breathes in. It isn't much, just enough to stop the waterworks and make the torrent of, well, everything a little more bearable.

Gordon rubs at his eyes underneath his glasses, wiping away the tears still there before he gives Benrey a grateful smile—which is only undermined a little bit by the blood still dripping down his chin from his nose. Benrey gives him a grin in return, ruffling his hair fondly. Gordon scowls and bats at their hand, before he straightens up and clears his throat. 

"So, uh, we're gonna have to talk about, well, _that_ , huh?"

"Yep," Benrey agrees, popping the 'p'.

" _Fuck_ , I really don't wanna have to do that. I don't suppose we could just, not do that?"

"Bro, they're all fucking worried outta their minds about you," Benrey points out, leaning back and staring up at the sky through the leaves. "Tommy thinks its his fault, which is uncool, 'cause I know it's because of me and Bubs."

Gordon groans, rubbing his face before cringing as his hand brushes against his nose and sends a sharp pain through his face. " _God_ , Benrey, I promise it's not your fault, nor is it Bubby's. I-I guess I'm gonna have to come clean." He presses the edge of his sleeve against the bottom of his nose to staunch the small amount of blood still leaking from it.

"If it helps at all, I kinda know what's going on. I mean I fuckin', uh, live with you 'n all, y'know? I could help explain some of it, if you'd like, or whatever."

Gordon is shocked at Benrey's sincerity. He blushes and turns his head away, mumbling, "y-yeah, I'd appreciate that, Ben. Thank you."

"Don't mention it. We, uh, should prolly start heading back." Benrey stands and offers Gordon a hand, which Gordon accepts. 

He allows himself to be pulled to his feet only to spit, " _fuck_ ," and drop back down to the ground, curled around his leg. Tears anew burn in his eyes, but these are of pain as his previously forgotten knee protests any movement by sending sharp, burning spikes of agonizing pain through his leg. "Ah, _ah_ , fucking-"

"You, uh, you okay, bro?" Benrey asks, crouching in front of Gordon, something like concern written across their face. 

" _No_ ," Gordon hisses through clenched teeth, fingers digging into the meat of his thigh as he rides out a wave of pain. "I fucked up my leg, dude, _fuck_."

"Would more-"

" _Yes_ ," he gasps, already knowing what Benrey's asking before they finish talking. They both know there needs to be a visible wound for their teal-to-green 'heal beam' Sweet Voice to work, but the calm blue would do something to relax him enough that the pain would be at least bearable. 

Benrey makes the same note as before and more Sweet Voice is inhaled, maybe a little too much because Gordon sways where he's seated and blinks wearily at Benrey. "Y'over did it, bud," he mumbles, eyes drooping. 

"Whoops," Benrey grins, not at all apologetic, "looks like ol' Benny Boy's gotta carry you back now, huh?"

"Mmhmm. Yeah, you do."

Gordon watches Benrey shift until their back is to him through heavy eyelids, and gets the hint despite his sluggish brain. He grips their shoulders and feels their hands wrap under his thighs, and with no effort Benrey stands, and shifts Gordon until he's properly piggy-backing them. Gordon lets his head drop against their shoulder as they begin the trek back to the house. His grip grows more slack as his eyelids drop more and more closed, mouth parted slightly as he drifts off. 

A moment later (at least it feels like a moment, its more likely it's been a little bit, actually), Gordon's awoken by Tommy's shocked yell of, "W-what happened to Mr. Freeman?"

"Clumsy boy tripped and fell like a total n00b," Gordon feels Benrey reply with a laugh, but anything else becomes static to his ears as his mind slips back into sleep. 

Another moment later he's being placed onto the couch, the movement jostling his knee and causing him to groan in pain. He hears an apology, but his foggy mind isn't quite sure who it is. Something cold is pressed to his swollen knee, painful for a second before becoming soothing, chasing away the throbbing ache with numb tendrils that slowly spread across his leg. 

Something swipes against his cheek and he cracks open his eyes, the world around him blurry in a way that can only mean he's lacking glasses. He squints up and sees a rag, and puts two and two together. Someone is wiping away the blood encrusted across his face. Good, it was getting itchy. 

A hand swipes through his hair and he can't help himself, Gordon presses into the touch like a cat and shifts so he's a little more comfortable. There's a murmur of conversation above his head that he's too tired to bother making sense of, so he just lets his eyes close again. 

When he finally fully awakes, it's to a dreadful headache behind his eyes, a dull ache on his face, and a sharp stabbing pain in his knee. He groans and presses back into whatever is under his head, and when a hand brushes his bangs from his forehead he realizes with a start he's in someone's lap. His eyes snap open only to close sharply against the light that makes his headache pound harder. "Ggh," he makes a noise with his throat, shaking fingers rubbing at his temples. 

"Who's lap am I on?"

"You're gonna have to show me your credentials to know that answer," a smug voice answers from above him.

"I should've guessed," he huffs good-naturedly, cracking his eyes open to look up at Benrey. "Hey."

"Hey. Uh, I, sorry," Benrey says, and Gordon's about to ask why when they raise their voice, not enough to be a yell but it sends a railroad spike of pain straight through his brain all the same. "Tommy! He's awake."

There's the sound of movement and the click of claws against hardwood before a cold, wet nose bumps into his cheek. Gordon turns his eyes to see Sunkist, big brown eyes worried as she stares at him. "Hey, girl," he smiles, patting her on the head with his prosthetic. "I'm okay."

"Excuse me, Sunkist," Tommy says as he gently nudges her out of the way. She shifts so her head is laying against Gordon's chest but doesn't move further, just barely giving Tommy room to crouch into Gordon's sight. "H-how are you doing, Mr. Freeman?"

"Honestly? I feel like a pile of shit warmed over. Help me sit up, Ben?" he asks, tapping their leg for emphasis. It looks like Benrey is about to protest but they oblige anyway, grabbing Gordon by the shoulders and helping him up. He squeezes his eyes in pain as the movement makes the pain in knee flare up worse, but once he's up he relaxes against Benrey's side.

A few painkillers and a glass of water are passed to him as Dr. Coomer and Bubby enter, followed shortly after by Darnold. Gordon gratefully accepts them and quickly downs the painkillers. There's an awkward silence hanging over the room as everyone shuffles to sit or stand somewhere, a heavy expectancy weighing down on Gordon's shoulders. He sighs and drags a hand down his face before mumbling, "better get this over with."

He clears his throat and looks at Sunkist instead of anyone else, not wanting to see their expressions. "So, uh, guess I gotta come clean, huh?"

"Gordon, Benrey already told us a bit about what's been going on," Dr. Coomer tells him. 

Oh.

"Oh, that's-that's good. What, uh, what have they told you?" He focuses on the feeling of Sunkist's fur under his fingers and not the anxiety curling in his gut, or the way his heart slams against his ribs like a struggling bird, or the panic bubbling in his chest. 

"They told us about the nightmares, for starters," Bubby grumbles, and if Gordon didn't know him as well as he does, he would've sounded angry. But Gordon can hear the thinly veiled worry behind the gruff words.

"And the panic attacks, the depressive episodes, the, ah, bottling everything up," Darnold adds, helpfully. Gordon nods.

"Gordon," Dr. Coomer starts, and he sounds so much like a concerned father that Gordon pauses, staring at his hand like a lifeline. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Gordon sucks in a deep breath. Right, okay, this is the part he's dreading, but it's now or never. "I, uh. Well, you see, I…" He rubs at the back of his neck and gives a small, bitter laugh, before letting his hand drop to his lap. "Back, uh, back, right after _everything_ that happened, I-I tried? I guess? A-and you all acted like none-none of it affected you? And when y-you all started to move on from it all, and I was s-still dealing w-with it, I, uh, I, I thought if I bottled it up and… and pretended to not be fucked up that, that you guys would think I w-was o-okay, too."

He clasps his hands tight enough together that it hurts, and barrels on before anyone could get a word in edgewise. "A-and I couldn't, I couldn't stop? I just… _kept_ bottling shit up, to save face o-or something, I dunno, to protect myself, I guess. And I-I-I guess i-it got to be too much, a-and-"

A tear drops onto his thumb, followed by another one and oh. He's crying again. Cool, great. He picks his head up and turns to everyone, directing a watery, self-deprecating smile at them. "I-I g-guess I'm trying to s-say, I'm sorry for n-not being okay."

His shoulders shake and he drops his gaze back to his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as tears race down his cheeks. He isn't sure what he's expecting from the heavy, oppressive silence, but it isn't Dr. Coomer's quiet, "oh, _Gordon_."

He hunches his shoulders as he waits, twisting his fingers together nervously. No one seems to want to be the first one to say anything, but finally Bubby breaks the silence. 

"Gordon, I don't know who the fuck said you had to be _okay_ after that." He shrugs a single shoulder, and Bubby groans. "Hey, listen to me. We're all fucked up about it. None of us are okay. But you wanna know how we're moving on from it? We rely on others. Harold and I go to therapy, for fucks sake."

"H-huh??"

"Y-yeah, Mr--Gordon! Darnold and I work through our issues in the-in the lab," Tommy pipes up. "Plus we have Sunkist! She's a certified service and therapy dog!"

"..."

"Feetman, you fuckin' live with me. And we _both_ know you've helped me through my own share of shit. 'S not a secret that dying fucked me sideways, nerfed me bad."

"I…"

"Gordon, I don't know why you're apologizing when it should be _us_ apologizing. For not seeing you were hurting, for not helping you sooner. How can we call ourselves your friends if we allowed you to suffer so much?" Dr. Coomer asks, voice softer than Gordon ever heard it. 

This is the straw that breaks the camel's back, because his face screws up and he's crying in earnest, sobs wracking his frame. "I-I'm sorry," he hiccups, curling in on himself. Benrey's arm wraps around his shoulders and tugs him further against them, and everyone else is moving to wrap their arms around him as well. "I'm sorry," he repeats, voice a whimper. 

As he cries in the middle of everyone's arms, he realizes how dumb he was to think they didn't care. He was absolutely _stupid_ to think they would ridicule him for being traumatized. These people weren't his parents, or his peers in high school. These were his friends, no, his _family_. And it's so clear to anyone looking that they all love him, in varying ways, he thinks as he feels Benrey's lips press into the top of his head. He was just too caught up in his own misgivings to see it. 

Finally his sobs turn to hiccups, then to small sniffles before subsiding completely. He accepts the tissues handed to him from… somewhere, and blots his face dry as everyone moves away. 

"I-Thank you, guys. I'm sorry for lying to you all."

"It's okay, my good bitch! Just don't do it again," Dr. Coomer smiles at him, usual booming voice back with a vengeance. 

"Y-yeah, Mr. Freeman. You really-you really scared the shit out of us when you ran off."

"That _was_ stupid of you, idiot," Bubby snorts with a grin. 

"Top 10 Gordon Feetman dumbass moments, number 5 will shock you," Benrey joins in, jostling him lightly. Gordon chuckles. 

"Gordon, you don't think sometimes, do you," Darnold teases, a twinkle in his eyes. 

Gordon gasps, mockingly offended. " _Darnold_ , you too? Cold."

Everyone laughs at his expense, even Gordon, and the atmosphere lightens considerably. The conversation steers away from the previous topic and goes to Darnold's latest potion breakthrough, and Gordon's content to just listen. He's wrung out like a sponge, emotionally and physically worn out. It comes as no surprise that he ends up falling asleep again, tucked up against Benrey's side. 

He wakes up when they shake his shoulders with a quiet, "hey, Feetman."

"Hmm?" His neck hurts from the awkward angle, but at least his headache is gone, and the throbbing in his knee isn't quite so intense. 

"Time for Gordo Babyman to go home. Sleepytime Junction time, baby gamers need their beauty sleep."

"Shut up," Gordon groans but shifts to let Benrey up. He stretches, back popping loudly, and sighs as his muscles loosen. God, he's getting too old for this shit. 

"Gordon, before you go, would you like my therapist's number?" Dr. Coomer steps up to him, his glasses held in one hand and a small slip of paper in his other. Gordon accepts his glasses and frowns at the crack in the lens before sliding them on. But he smiles at Dr. Coomer and nods. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'd like that. Thank you, Dr. Coomer."

The older man hands Gordon the paper before slapping him on the back. "Now, Gordon, I've told you to call me Harold!"

"Now, Dr. Coomer," Gordon parrots his tone, patting his arm, "You know I can't do that."

"Touché."

Benrey helps him stand, and Dr. Coomer rushes in on his other side when his knee buckles and he almost falls. "Thanks, Dr. Coomer, Benrey."

It's awkward, hobbling to the door between two men who are shorter than him, considerably in Dr. Coomer's case, but he manages. Tommy stops them in the doorway, hurrying over to hug Gordon goodbye. He hugs back the best he can. 

"Mr-Gordon. Can you promise me that you'll come to one of us if you need help?"

Gordon wants to assure him, but he doesn't want to give a false promise. "I can't, Tommy," he says, watching Tommy's face fall. "But," he continues with a smile, "I can promise to try."

"T-that's all I'm asking, Gordon. Thank you."

He pats Tommy's shoulder, before he's led outside. It's much darker than he expected, and Gordon realizes he has no idea what time it is. Bubby's waiting by his and Dr. Coomer's car, and calls out, "Do you need a ride home? I don't want you driving like that."

"No thank you, Bubby. Surprisingly, Benrey can drive just fine. Says he learned from GTA."

"HAHAHA, you bet I did."

Bubby eyes them suspiciously, before frowning, "Are you sure?"

"Bubby, I promise. They're just a lazy asshole who would rather me drive. But they drive perfectly fine, trust me." Gordon doesn't mention that he'd rather drive with Benrey any day than Bubby's hell-driving.

"If you say so… Well, get home safely."

"You too, Bubby. Don't break too many laws!"

"You know I'll break all of them!"

Gordon snorts and shakes his head and continues towards the car, finally climbing into the passenger seat with no small amount of swearing. Once he's buckled and Benrey heads around to the driver's side, Dr. Coomer leans in and places a broad, warm hand on his shoulder. "Gordon, please call us if you need anything."

"Alright, Dr. Coomer."

"And go to the doctor tomorrow, get that knee checked out," he adds. 

"Right."

"And Gordon, do us all a favor and ask Benrey out already," he finishes with a huge smile. 

Gordon's face burns and he stammers,

"I-w-hhh-Okay, Goodbye Dr. Coomer!" and shuts the door, burying his face in his hands to hide his red cheeks. 

Benrey gets in the car with an awkward cough, their own blush high on their cheeks and Gordon can only guess they got a similar talk. They start the car in silence, awkwardness itching between them, and they both jump at the blare of some pop song through the speakers. That breaks the tension, though, and Gordon laughs until he's breathless while Benrey grins wildly and backs out of the driveway. 

Gordon holds out his left hand and Benrey spares it a glance before getting the hint and slotting their fingers through his. They sit in a now comfortable silence for a while, the drone of the radio enough noise for both of them. Eventually though, Gordon sighs and looks out the window. 

"Penny for your thoughts," Benrey asks, eyes flickering over to him for a nanosecond before turning back to the road. 

"I… just… today was… _something_. I'm tired, emotionally."

"Uh, yeah. Of course you are. That was a lotta, uh, emotions. Gotta recharge the emotion machine, all outta juice," they explain, and somehow, Gordon understands. Squeezes their hand to show it. 

"I guess you're right. I just don't want a repeat of it," he sighs again, but it's a little less sad than before.

"Aw, come on, sleeping on my lap wasn't that bad, was it?" Benrey honest-to-god pouts. Gordon can't help snorting, struggling to not smile. He fails, giggling a bit. 

"Okay, I concede," he huffs, " _that_ part was nice. I just don't want any of what lead up to that."

"Well, yeah that was a big sucks, major yucky time. Only good cuddles for my best bro."

Dr. Coomer's words ring in Gordon's head and he glances back out the window, fighting down a blush. "Yeah."

After about an hour of driving, they pull into the apartment complex parking lot. Benrey has to carry Gordon again as the elevator is and has been broken for as long as Gordon lived there. And their apartment is on the fourth floor. Unfortunately, Benrey insists on carrying bridal style up all four flights of stairs and into the apartment, so Gordon hides his face in their neck and refuses to think about it. (He thinks _very_ hard about it.)

Soon, he's settled into bed, another dose of painkillers in his system, and Benrey turns to leave. Gordon snags their hand before they can, and then blinks stupidly as they pause because he _didn't think this through_. "Uh, I, would… would you wanna… sleep here tonight?"

"Wow, you asking me to sleep with you or something? That's pretty gay."

"N-not like that, asshole!"

"Gordon, uh, Gaydon Cuddleman. Yeah, I'll have a sleepover."

"God you're insufferable, just get in bed," Gordon groans, lifting the covers to allow them underneath. They slide in next to him and Gordon rolls over to lean on their chest. 

"Wh, uh, bein' a little forward there, aint'cha. Ain't even kissed and you're usin' me as a pillow," they ramble nervously above his head. 

Gordon rolls his eyes, and then feeling a spark of daring, asks, "If I kiss you will you shut up?"

"Whu, _huh_?" Benrey asks, voice strangled. Gordon waits a moment, and then they say, "wait, really? A kisseroo for Benrey? Benny and Gordo smoochies? For reals?"

"Yeah, for real. C'mere." He shifts to take Benrey's face in one of his hands and leans up the best he can to press his lips against Benrey's. Benrey's lips are really, _really_ soft, and they part slightly as Gordon deepens the kiss a little. 

They break apart and the pure adoration in Benrey's eyes makes Gordon's face flush three shades of red before he ducks his head and hides in his hands. 

"Wowie, that was the play of the game," Benrey dumbly says and Gordon blushes more, somehow, with a squeaky laugh. 

"Shut up," he whines, moving one hand to slap lightly at their chest. "Stop, I'm gonna die, dude."

Their arms wrap around his waist and rub his back slightly, fingers splayed under his shirt. "So, uh, does this make us boyfriends?"

"I-I guess it does, but we gotta talk about it tomorrow or something, okay?"

"Hell yeah, Daddy-o."

"Never. Call me that again, I swear."

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

The next day Gordon goes to the doctor, and finds out that while he didn't fucking break his leg, he did indeed dislocate his knee. And while his nose was bruised it isn't broken either. He's prescribed some pain meds and put on bed rest for a week and told to take it easy. So Gordon goes home and gets babied to hell and back by Benrey, much to his chagrin. While the attention isn't bad he really doesn't need them lurking outside the bathroom every time he went in, or them hovering over him whenever he does anything more strenuous than sleep. And he has to rely on Tommy to cook for him for a couple weeks as he's unable to stand long enough to cook and Benrey gets banished from the kitchen after trying to feed Gordon uncooked pasta in a bowl of hot blue Powerade. 

A month later, the day after his first appointment with his therapist, he finds himself back together with the entire science team. This time they're at a small diner roughly half-way between all of their homes. He and Benrey are the last ones there due to Benrey getting him distracted with _Animal Crossing_ of all things, and apologies are on his lips as he and Benrey hurry to the table. 

"Sorry, guys, we lost track of time."

"Oh, that's okay, Gordon! Glad you could make it," Tommy smiles as Gordon lets Benrey sit first before he does so himself. "We were-we were just catching up about what's been going on in everyone's lives!"

"Gordon, Bubby-hubby and I are building a rocket to the Moon," Dr. Coomer exclaims, smiling at Bubby who scowls at the nickname. 

"That's amazing, guys," Gordon breaths, not at all doubting their abilities. "What about you two? Darnold, have you unlocked the secrets to the 'Evil' flavor?"

"Well, Gordon, I'll gladly have you know Tommy and I are so close to figuring it out. While our last test made my hair glow for two days, I know our next will be the closest yet!"

"That's," Gordon laughs a bit, shaking his head, "That's great. I know you can do it."

"Hell yeah we can, Gordon! You'll be the first to know when we get it right."

"How about you, Gordon? How's everything going with you and Benrey?" Tommy clearly isn't expecting much _helpful_ input from Benrey, who was still engrossed in their Animal Crossing, trying to finish catching all the fish for the fishing tourney. 

"Well, I started going to therapy after Dr. Coomer suggested it, and uh, I really hope it helps. Other than that, nothing much has changed," he supplies, glancing down at Benrey's screen only to see them fail catching a fish. "Oh that sucks, dude."

"Bbbbbbb."

"What do you want?"

Benrey just turns their face towards him, eyes not leaving the screen. Gordon rolls his eyes but gets the hint and presses a quick kiss against their lips, only to freeze when he hears various confused noises. " _What_?"

"Congratulations, Gordon," Dr. Coomer crows, bright green eyes shining. 

"About fucking time, I was tired of seeing you two dance around each other," Bubby huffs good-naturedly.

"I'm glad you two finally got together," Darnold smiles. 

"Mr. Freeman, you didn't tell me!" Tommy looks astonished, eyes wide and a small frown on his lips. Gordon genuinely feels bad. He hadn't been secretive about it, he thought everyone knew!

"I-I thought I _did_ , I'm sorry Tommy!"

"Gordon Lameman forgot to tell people we were dating? Wow, real loser move, there, bro," Benrey teases, pocketing their switch and sitting up.

"Shut up, Benrey," Gordon tugs their hat over their eyes. They stick their tongue out at him and Gordon purses his lips. "You didn't tell anyone either."

"Yeah well, look who you're talkin' to."

"Ah, isn't young love beautiful, Bubby?"


End file.
